


Premier Lumier

by BleedingBishop



Series: Mystrade ScreenShots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Mycroft Holmes, MMO Player AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 11:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19294882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: He hadn’t intended to lure an, as he now knew, attractive middle-aged woman into speaking with him under the mistaken guise of a late 20’s Uni student, but life had really taken him by the collar and dragged him along.





	Premier Lumier

“Wow, you’re…so...”

“Old?” She laughed, a bit too self deprecatingly for someone who had managed to make him forget how to type just by smiling.

“Pretty.” She looked up from her mousemat in surprise, and Greg chuckled as she knocked the mouse off her desk with her elbow.

“That’s kind of you to say, Lordan.” She called out, dipping from the webcam to pick it back up.

“Greg. My name is Greg.”

“Nice to hear from you, Greg, if not see you.” She laughed, it was soft, low, melodic; Greg felt warm and sleepy just listening. 

“Yeah, sorry about that - I know I said we’d do the Face to face thing, and given that I was the one to force you into this, and then I was the bugger that had his cam fail two minutes before we agreed to meet up, but I’m glad… Really glad I met you, Iceane11.”

“I feel the same, Greg.” She smiled again, and a small beeping echoed on each microphone. Her smile dipped to an apologetic one.

“Oh, heck, It’s 2 AM again. You have Uni today, correct? You should get some sleep. Goodnight, Greg.” She gave a sweet smile before the connection was cut, and DCI Gregory Lestrade fell heavily back into his chair. 

Fuck. Iceane was…

Wonderful.

He hadn’t intended to lure an, as he now knew, attractive middle-aged woman into speaking with him under the mistaken guise of a late 20’s Uni student, but life had really taken him by the collar and dragged him along. Iceane, what would she think if she knew she wasn’t talking to Greg the Student and to a high ranking member of the police force? Would she care? Obviously, she would feel betrayed, that's only understandable. And a woman with a vaguely acknowledged history of military, or some form of, training, would not be the kind of woman Greg would want to get on the bad side of.

The good side though…

Greg shook his head and signed out of Lumier, the online game he had only really dabbled in until a PUG that needed a healer had reached out for him, and Lordan first met Iceane. Iceane wasn’t a very forthright player, her movement style was as kin to her Dark Matter Majics, hidden in the shadows until she was ready to pounce and take you down before it was too late for you to struggle, but she had been polite, that soft, strong voice asking how he preferred to be known (“Lordan, like Jordan”), was he on this server often (“Yes”), what healing style he was the best with (“Uh, the health making kind?”) before she laughed that sweet laugh and welcomed him to the group. As expected, the PUG held out long enough to divvy the spoils of their bounty, but Lordan watched Iceane and another player move off towards the edge of their current county, and couldn’t help but follow. 

And now, nine months later, he was still following.

Only now, he knew Iceane wasn’t some young teen, decompressing after school, or some 30-year-old living with his 1 room studio and a dead-end job.

Iceane was a wonderful, intelligent woman, a civil servant (“Desk work, far more suited to administration and management than back then when I was younger, running left and right at the whim of others”) who just so happened to look like every dream of a wife he had ever had since he was a boy and realized he wanted to be a husband.  
Long soft hair, tied into a graceful bun on her head, exposing her pale neck, ears pierced with a delicate gem in a blue that matched her eyes.

Greg blushed as the memory of her figure brushed his mind, seen as she left her computer chair to walk across the room to close the curtains on her floor-length windows as it became dark. 

Tall, zaftig, the sway of her hips as she crossed the space to hide the glittering silhouette of London (She also lived so close!) made Greg swallow audibly.  
A larger figure appealed to Greg, a far different size from his ex-wife, who he thought charming on personality alone (at the beginning, obviously) and the blush satin blouse and the dark pencil skirt Iceane wore curved around her large hips, over her larger chest, appealed to Greg a lot, maybe far too much for having just met her.

‘And also lying about your identity, you bastard.’

Greg groaned and slammed the laptop closed, before wincing at the heavy hand. 

‘Get to bed, deal with it tomorrow.’

It was already far too late, what should have been a half hour chat lasted well into its fifth hour before Iceane took the initiative as apparently the oldest to tell him to go to bed, and true enough, he did have to go in to work half an hour early to prep a squad meeting…

Greg groaned again. Tired, disappointed, and guiltily enjoying the fizz of something delicious in his lower stomach when he thought back to how her arse looked in that tight skirt.  
Without even bothering to change from his joggers and jumper, he threw himself onto his bed and let the desire to end the day take him to sleep.

__________________________

At the rise of dawn, a sound alerted the room and its unconscious occupant of a message through the laptop on the desk.

"Good morning Greg, I hope you slept well. I really enjoyed talking to you yesterday, and hope you will consider another evening soon. I wanted to say, I had realized I have spent several hours, after several months, of chatting with you through chat and over Teamspeak, I had yet to actually introduce myself.

Hello, Greg, my name is Mycroft. It's a pleasure to finally speak with you. I hope next time we shall see each other in person, it would be nice to see you.  
I'll see you soon,  
Mycroft x "

**Author's Note:**

> Insert so many cliche situations as Greg tries to admit who he is to Mycroft while also falling further and further for her the more he sees and hears her, and Mycroft who is getting more and more worried that she's being groomed for information by an enemy of the state by a young man who is clever and funny. Who is also 20 years younger and most certainly does not want a middle age woman with a schoolyard crush on him.
> 
> And then they somehow meet and kiss.


End file.
